Midwinter's Tale
by Fluidfyre
Summary: The Warden and her companions arrive back to Redcliffe with the ashes, just as the snows of Satinalia fall - and find a moment of reprieve from the horrors of the Blight. One-shot. Teagan, Sten & others.


_**A/N:** This was written as a gift for someone, I was taking prompt requests. This one's going back into DA:O. Just a short bit of fluff._

_Request: The Warden, their party, and winter celebrations w/ extra fluff please. Brosca or Cousland._

* * *

><p>"I won't deny my relief at your timely arrival, my lady," Bann Teagan said as he let the chalice sink into Elissa Cousland's waiting grasp. "And at your safe return."<p>

"That is kind of you to say, Teagan," she replied with a tired smile. "And please, don't stand on formality. I am not certain I've ever been any sort of lady, or ever will."

Teagan laughed and led her from the doorway into the wide hall of the castle. The eaves were bedecked in garland and Chantry symbols in celebration of the Arl's revival - at the miracle the Warden and her companions had wrought from their return with Andraste's Ashes. The castle was filled with life and laughter, the heart warm with fires and the air rich with roast meats and sweets, and colourful, bright masks donned many a face. "I can see why you might get along with Alistair then."

"Perhaps," Elissa replied, her smile growing more taciturn. "But what of you? Will you be returning to Rainsfere shortly, then?"

"No, I will leave it in the hands of my more than capable steward for the time being. The Blight has driven most of my freeholders from their land. I fear there is not much left to rule." Teagan said, and continued under his breath. "Eamon would not admit it, be I am needed here. He has not seen what Loghain has done - I cannot allow any weakness, lest we all perish in this petty squabble for power."

"I am glad to hear it," Elissa replied, pausing to lay a hand on his arm. "Your support of the Wardens has been a light in these dark times."

"I would support you no matter the cause, my lady," Teagan replied, and cleared his throat. His eyes bore the weight of his true responsibility, but a smile graced his lips. "I must attend to our guests, but I do hope I may ask you for a dance as the night progresses."

"You may ask," Elissa replied with a coquettish grin. "But you will have to wait for my answer."

"Eagerly, then," Teagan said, taking her hand and placing a brief kiss upon her fingers, before disappearing into the mingling guests. The minstrels took up another refrain, and the sea of people parted as they organized to dance - revealing a removed group of individuals nearby.

Elissa drifted through the surviving townsfolk with ease, offering a smile and a laugh as they stopped her, and accepting small tokens they pressed into her hand: hard candy, a sprig of green ivy, and carved wooden coins. She embraced them and offered her own rewards, dwarven coins that hung from a sash around her waist, before finally making it to her friends.

"As popular as ever," Alistair said from where he slouched along the wall. He pouted slightly, and his cheeks carried the blush of mead and hard drink.

"They need hope," Elissa replied, reaching to take a sweet roll that Leiliana offered to her. "I will give it to them where I can."

"She is a lady of Ferelden, Alistair," Leiliana said, licking the honey from her finger before taking up her lute once more. "You shine most beautifully in their adoring sighs, you know. It suits you."

"It would not do to neglect the ravishing gown you wear either, mm?" Zevran said with a short laugh. "I know it gives me hope."

Elissa grinned and gave him a push. "What are you all doing here, moping in the corner? We've been out in the cold for a month, and this is the best you can do?"

"We don't belong here," Alistair bluntly said.

"It's Feast Day," Elissa said, offering her hand to Zevran. "Everyone belongs."

Leiliana took cue and began to sing, and Zevran followed Elissa's lead into a lively dance that carried their feet about the crowd. Wynne smiled from where she was reclined in a chair, delicate digits draped around a chalice of wine and half empty bottle beside her. The bard soon relinquished her lute and dragged Alistair out with her, and soon enough their smiles were as bright as the rest of the room.

The music from the minstrels wafted through the high room, echoing off the stone and encompassing each carried step. Alistair moved clumsily, prompting more laughter from Leiliana as she tried to coach him - while Zevran moved with the same grace he always possessed.

"Tell me of this Teagan," Zevran whispered by her ear as she spun close, and Elissa laughed.

"He's Alistair's uncle," she replied.

"Mmm, and quite handsome too, no?"

"Perhaps," she laughed again, and they joined the procession of dancing pairs, clapping hands and stamping their feet before linking arms to spin once more. "Are you so eager to pair me with another man?"

"You have rebuked me, and I am rather awesome, you see," Zevran purred near her ear, and squeezed her hand as she ducked under his arm. "There must be another, with some quality I cannot see."

"Must be," Elissa replied and shook her head, eyes dancing away as her feet carried on. When the song lulled she gave him a push and said, "Why don't you see if that magical bosom over there would dance with you?"

"Always a tease," Zevran tsked and shook his head, grinning devilishly. "But wise advice."

Shaking her head, Elissa drifted away from them, tugging the feather-adorned leather mask that concealed the top half of her face off and leaving it on a table, and trading it for a small draw-string satchel. She glanced behind to the party before pushing out into the night air and lingering on the dark balcony. Crossing her arms, she straightened her posture and took up a place beside Sten where he stood appraising the village.

The night was mottled with clouds, but the low moon was visible in the distance, illuminating the frost and scant snow that gilded the eaves of the houses below when the clouds parted. The distant Lake Calenhad was calm, shimmering with both moon and starlight, and the fog that drifted over its surface seemed to glow with an ephemeral quality.

"You don't have to stay out here, you know," Elissa said without looking at him.

Sten offered a low rumble in reply, unmoved, and said, "I do not understand this tradition. It is not my place."

"It is midwinter – we've made it through another year alive, isn't that reason enough to rejoice?"

"And what of the Blight?" Sten asked, looking down upon her.

Elissa suppressed a shiver, shifting to get out of the small drift of snow within which she stood. "Seems all the more reason to celebrate. They have lost so much, and all the world suffers for it. We must take what small relief we can get."

"It will not be any easier," Sten said, watching her in the dark. The angle of the moon left his features in relief, eyes and cornrows shadowed. He uncrossed his arms. "It is a waste."

"Perhaps," Elissa murmured, shrugging as she shivered again in her gown. "We'll leave in another day and strike out for the Brecilian Forest. Would that make you happy? It will be cold and snow, and we can get back to killing our foes."

"The cold is no ally of mine," Sten grumbled, and was about to speak when he spied the small sack Elissa extended his way. "What is this?"

"A gift," she said, before adding, "It's custom. And I've appreciated all you've done. I'm not sure I could do this without you, Sten."

Tugging the string, Sten's expression shifted as poked a finger in. "Hmm."

"Cookies," Elissa said, slowly smiling. She touched his hand. "Enjoy them. And come join us inside – but only if you want to. Maybe if I have you on my arm, it would frighten all the other would-be men away."

"Thank you," Sten said, as Elissa turned back to the doors.

"Any time," Elissa said, and disappeared back into the hall.

Sighing quietly, Sten looked back over the lake. The clouds had thickened overhead, and as clumps of light flakes began to fall, he picked at the cookies and munched them in the cool quiet.


End file.
